Romeo and Juliet
by House MD Based
Summary: Sherlock needs a new roommate after John moves in with an expecting Mary. He finds one, she's mysterious and cute, with an intellect that rivals that of Holmes' and he's immediately captivated by her the moment she speaks, but she has a past he struggles to shed light on, and a dark secret she's reluctant to whisper to even the most tight lipped of the population [Sherlock OC] pair
1. Chapter 1

Changing

 _ **[A.N. This is my first real Sherlock fic and I'm a little wary of my portrayal of Sherlock, so if you feel I'm not writing him correctly or I'm writing him out of character please do comment and tell me so I can alter him appropriately and feel free to give me some tips on how to write him, they will be highly appreciated. (Sometimes I'll add a comment at the beginnin gof a chapter if I'm writing Sherlock out of character for a reason because sometimes it's instrumental to a story) I ramble, sorry... Enjoy the story *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* ;)...]**_

 **(Influence: 'Complicated' by Avril Lavigne (My influence is usually the song I listen to on repeat whilst writing btw)**

 **(Warnings: Swearing... 'bout it tbh)**

 _ **Third Person Point of View**_

Chapter One

"Boring. Please leave." Sherlock responded before the seventh option had even opened his mouth. His words were polite but his tone had an unshakable edge of rudeness, and the objective to offend clung to his voice like it was stuck with glue; Constant and old, as though he'd been like this for a while. His eyes stayed fixed on the lean man as he arose from his seat and walked out the door. I wish there was a better word to describe the way he walked, but there isn't he just... walked. He was so ordinary it physically _pained_ Sherlock to think about living with him. A sigh escaped John's lips as he made no attempt to move. Sherlock's head snapped almost robotically to the right, now fixing his piercing gaze on John, who didn't even stir under Sherlock's perfected, scrutinous eyes. "The monotone in your sigh suggests you are annoyed at me for reasons I just cannot fathom, John." He mentioned, with no emotion in his voice and John just rolled his eyes before replying:

"Sherlock. That's the fifth person you've dismissed before they've even spoke... The seventh person you've sent away overall."

"Your point being?" He asked, for a genuis, he really was stupid at certain times.

"Sherlock! At this rate you'll _never_ find a roomate!" John replied, his voice raising louder than John usually explores with Sherlock.

"Relax." Sherlock replied, not stirring at all since he sent the man away. He was eerily still. Almost inhuman as he sat, not even the rise and fall of his chest was visible.

"Relax?!" John yelled, his voice sowly growing louder and louder amoungst the papers and books that littered the floor, corrupted by Sherlock's thoughts.

"Yes. Relax. It's a verb. It means make or become less tense or anxious." Sherlock recited, as if he had a physical picture of the dictionary in his head. "Besides, I have one more... _contestant._ " Sherlock concluded to John's relief. Sherlock almost shuddered at the word 'contestant', like he was disgusted by the mere thought of the word alone.

"You'll probably send them away because their shoes imply they're a heroine addict who solves crimes to get high. No, wait, that's you!" John retorted coldly and factually inaccurate. The degree of cynicism was foreign in John's voice, he was never inconsiderate, or venemous. The soft patter of shoes walking up the appartment stairs was guised by the uncharacteristic arguing of the two men and Sherlock's face grew into a smirk. "Do you have any idea what else you are, Sherlock Holmes? You're a sociopathic, unkind, unpleasant, unfriendly and disagreeable man who is completely devoid of feelings!" John wrapped up.

"Feelings do nothing but distract." Sherlock stated, staring off at some distant object in his line of sight. John let out a heavy sigh of frustration from his nose before he turned around and stormed out, not paying Sherlock one more look.

"Uhm I-" Started a voice, directly at John as he passed, but the Doctor was gone before anything else could be said. "M- Mr Holmes?" The voice attempted again softly. Sherlock's eyes darted towards the door, where a woman stood. She was about five foot four, five foot five approximetly. Her hair was long and black, pulled up haphazardly in a two minute messy bun. She had an oversized university branded jumper draping over her torso

 _'Probably a boyfriend's.'_ Sherlock thought. Dark blue skinny jeans consumed her skinny legs. There was a square indentation in her left front jean pocket and, judging by the size, it was where her phone sat _'Possibly left handed'_.

"Yes. Come in." Sherlock ushered the woman in after he jumped up from the chair. She sat down on the chair usually reserved for the clients and Sherlock stared at the back of her head. He blindly pushed the door and it closed with an overpowering slam and he watched intently as the woman almost jumped out of her skin "Nervous?" He asked with a smirk

"No... Well, not particularly, not because of _you,_ uhm, loud noises scare me... Consequence of growing up with who I did I can only guess." She replied. Her voice small and her words holding a slight stutter to begin with. Sherlock rounded the woman and threw himself down in his chair. He glanced across to where John was sat no less than five minutes ago and he was almost sad to see it empty... _Almost_.

"Who you grew up with?" Sherlock questioned. Her eyes grew darker, something Sherlock didn't think logically possible in a human being.

"I don't see how my family tree is hardly relevant?" She asked him and he narrowed his eyes.

"It isn't. How's your boyfriend?" Sherlock asked, spying the most miniscule spot of blood on the jumper

"I don't have a boyfriend." She stated and Sherlock tilted his head slightly. "The jumper. It's mine. They sent the wrong size and I never saw the need to buy a smaller one."

"Hmm." He simply stated, staring with his grey eyes fixed on the blood.

"The blood is mine too. Bit of a run in at one family dinner. What about you, Mr Holmes?"

"Please. Call me Sherlock." He interrupted somewhat courteously.

"Sherlock. May I deduce you, as you are so obviously attempting to do to me?"

"Go ahead."

"Okay. You aren't used to fighting with the Doctor, whom I assume is former soldier John Watson. You're concerned about him because he isn't usually that agressive. He's newly married, and a baby on the way and you're worried about how he's coping but you're too afraid to say anything because you don't want him to see how much you care. You're jealous. Implying you either have a romantic or sexual interest in Doctor Watson or a former relationship including those things. But you haven't, you're just not used to having friends. He's your fir- second real friend. You had a childhood friend but you don't know what happened to him. Do you want me to start on your dysfunctional family problems? Or is this enough for you to be getting on with?" She said, her voice being complicated-ly fast at some points, like she was trying to get a lot of information in a short space of time. Sometimes she spoke eerily slow, as if waiting to see what reaction she elicited from him.

Sherlock didn't speak, he just stared, he was surprised. _Impressed?_ Perhaps. Though he'd never show this. Someone had just beat him at his own game. After he had made completely false deductions on her, she had swooped in and 'hit the nail on the head'

"I'm sorry." She replied and the words seemed foreign on her tongue. It was said so emotionless it didn't even seem true. Of course, Sherlock knew it was true. He often said things he meant, but the emotionless timbre in his words often dissuaded people. He could tell her words were genuine. Sherlock had to have been silent, staring, for a good ten minutes because she rose from her chair and made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, jumping up _onto_ the seat of the chair almost urgently

"I just told you everything you've been trying your hardest to hide from the world, you don't want me around, I _promise_ you, you don't want me as your roommate." She replied and Sherlock leaped from the sofa and scuttered between the girl and the door.

"You're not leaving." He told her and she frowned.

"Sherlock, I'm the world's shittest roommate. I'm loud, annoying, frustrating, nosey, sometimes I lock myself away and sometimes I don't talk for days on end." She explained with a far away look sitting in her green eyes and a faint smirk etched it's way onto Sherlock's face

"Honey." He said in a fake humerous voice "You just described me.". A rejuvinating laugh escaped her lips and Sherlock smiled a genuine smile.

"Alright then. This ought'a be fun." She told him and the two smirked a mischevious and wicked smile at eachother.

"How do you feel about murder?" He asked and she tilted her head to the side.

"Committing, witnessing or solving?" She asked

"Solving. Maybe witnessing."

"Sure, why not." She replied

"Lets go."

"Wait, right now?" She asked, watching as Sherlock started running down the stairs, like a child on a sugar high.

"Yes, right now."

"But I don't even have a coat." She exclaimed, gesturing to the oversized Oxford Uni sweater she was wearing. Sherlock bounded back up the stairs towards her, pulled off his own Milford Coat and swept it around her shoulders before grabbing her wrist and tugging her down the steps after him. They both stumbled through the door as the streets of London hit them both.

 _1 hour later_

"Wait, so there's not a murder?" She asked him and he shook his head.

"No ma'am."

"Then why did you drag me out of the flat saying there was?"

"I never said there was a murder."

"You slick bastard." She excalimed but she laughed, taking any angry edge away from her words. Sherlock smiled. It was a genuine smile, one he hasn't experienced in a long, _long_ time.

"You wanna get some food?" Sherlock asked, after hearing the odd growling of his own stomach.

"Yeah..." She replied, but her voice was soft and unsure.

"You don't have to if you don't wanna, just a suggestion, I'm a little hungry."

"It's just..." Her voice trailed off and her gaze lingered on the ground

"Yeah?"

"I don't know anywhere in London..." She said, still looking at the ground and Sherlock smiled again

"If that's the problem we'll go somewhere mainstream." Sherlock mentioned, before he grabbed her wrist and ran off across the road, pulling her behind him. Laughs echoed from the two as they tripped and stumbled towards a McDonalds. "They have these where you come from right?" Sherlock asked as they both lumbered through the doors into the fast food establishment.

"Of course they have these where I come from. I haven't come from under a rock." She said and the two laughed loudly, attracting the stares of several people. "Sherlock I'm gonna need my arm back" She exclaimed with a humerous tone in her voice. The resturant wasn't crowded but it wasn't empty. There were two fourteen/fifteen year old girls sat at one table, sharing a portion of fries and laughing over some obscene reason. There was a family sat at one of the booths, a mum, dad and a son, eating their food and laughing and talking, like a family should.

"Hey," Sherlock asked, grabbing her attention again "I don't even know your name."

"Oh, yeah! Oh uh, my Name's Jane. Jane Moriarty."

"Moriarty?" Sherlock queried and his stomach dropped.

"Yes, I know it's weird but I'll have you know it's one of the most common surnames in London!" She replied in mock defense.

"Ah."

Jane's hands plunged into her coat pocket, before she remembered; It wasn't hers.

"Uh, Sherlock..."

"Uh Huh?" He asked, watching something out of the window.

"This is your coat." She mentioned, as she gripped the cuffs of the arms in her hands.

"Yes, it is."

"So, it doesn't have my things in it."

"Oh, yeah. I'll pay."

"No." Jane replied and Sherlock was slightly surprised by her reluctancy.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, nudging her slightly with his shoulder

"Because then people assume I depend on people."

"Just because I pay for your food once doesn't mean you depend on me."

"I just... I don't like owing people anything."

"It's on the house. A thank you for being my new roommate." Sherlock replied, persistant.

"Shouldn't it be me thanking you?"

"Nope. No one wants to be my roommate but you."

"You had seven other applicants."

"None of them were as intresting as you though, Jane." He replied, looking at her face and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her features.

 _Ten Minutes Later_

[Jane's P.O.V]

Me and Sherlock sat across from eachother. We both picked at our chips but neither of us seemed overly interested in them, despite him saying he was hungry earlier.

"You okay?" I asked and I knew it'd take a while, longer than a few hours together, for him to feel comfortable enough to open up to me. His head snapped up quickly from his food to me and he frowned for half a second before his brows smoothed out again

"I'm fine. Why?" He asked as his grey eyes were fixed on my green ones.

"Well, earlier you said you were hungry, but you've barely touched your food. You seem distant..."

"I'm good. What about you? Are you alright?" He asked as he placed a chip in his mouth and munched on it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I replied and my gaze dropped to the food in front of me as I too picked up a chip and ate it.

"Wow. You're lying." Sherlock stated with a light chuckle.

"So are you." I told him, still looking down onto the table and playing with my chips, moving them around the tray.

"Touche."

"My brother used to say that all the time." I said with a smile, looking up almost as if to see him. My stomach dropped when I was greeted with not him. Of course not.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. He used to say a lot of things."

"'Used'?" Sherlock queried, and I could tell he was intrigued. I smiled before stating:

"You're not using my brother as a thing to blackmail me with." Coldly

"Why would I blackmail you? And why would I use your brother?" He asked, frowning and setting the chip in his hand back down onto his plate.

"It's complicated and I've known you less than a day. I'm not having this discussion with you." I replied with a cynical tone in my voice

"It's okay you can talk to me about it-"

"I have to go." I interrupted before rising quickly and abruptly form my seat and striding out of the building. I felt bad for leaving Sherlock, especially after he had been so nice to me, so uncharateristically kind to me... Why _was_ he kind to me? He's Sherlock Holmes, his infamous attitude and insulting behaivour is what led me to him... Yet he's being kind. _'Weird'_ I thought to myself.


	2. Chapter 2

**[A.N: Yeah, I have nothing to say before writing this. I'll add if I think of anything like plot holes, inncorrect facts, explanations etc. Actually, I'm halfway through writing and I'd just like to say: Aww, two of you guys have reviewed already. To Ellis Jenkins: Thankyou for your review, and I'll try not to write things like 'wanna' or 'gonna' coming out of Sherlock's mouth, apologies if it slips out sometimes, I personally use them a lot (I'm not proud of it haha) and I type fast so, you hopefully see the connection :) And to the 'Guest' who reviewed saying "This is wonderful, in both fluency of the writing quality and in intriguing plot. Please do continue in this series, I greatly enjoyed it." Thank you! Trust me when I say I** _ **will**_ **continue with this because I have as much fun writing it as you are expressing you have when reading it! You're all very kind! :) ]**

 **(Influence: 'Not About Angels' By Birdy)**

 **(Warnings: Swearing)**

 _ **Jane's P.O.V**_

I had been walking around London for at least an hour now. Thinking about anything, and everything. But, no matter what, my mind always wandered back to Sherlock. I felt horrible, terrible, for leaving him alone. Had he walked back to the flat? Or was he doing the same thing as me? Either way, he must be freezing cold. I have his coat, and darkness has seemed to overcome the city faster now, with it being winter, and the miniscule measure of warmth that used to be in the air was completely surpressed as soon as the stars were visible. They _were_ visible too, beautiful... Surprising.

I used to stargaze when I was younger. Used to pretend to listen to my brother ramble on and on about different constellations and gravitational pull and light pollution. In all honesty, I just liked looking at the pretty stars, but now I'd do anything to hear his voice, his _normal_ voice, listen to the things he'd _used_ to say. Even if I did see him again, it wouldn't be the 'old' him, the 'my brother' him... Mum, and dad spent the last three years convincing me he was a horrible person. A terrible person. I refused to believe them. I still don't believe them, despite what happened.

I rounded a corner and found myself on Baker Street. "Time to go home then." I said aloud to myself as I approached the door. I looked suspiciously at the wonky door knocker before I pushed the door open slowly "Sherlock?" I called softly as I padded inside and closed the door behind me, doing my best to keep the heimal temperature outside. "Sherlo-"

"Ah! You must be Jane!" A kind voice called out down the stairs. It wasn't Sherlock's. It was a woman's "I'm Mrs Hudson, the landlady. Sherlock told me to be expecting you."

"You put up with Sherlock?" I asked and it came out colder than I had hoped, but the woman just laughed as she waved me up the stairs

"I owed him a favour. He's actually not that bad, when he's not shooting up my walls."

"I'm not even going to ask." I laughed, as me and Mrs Hudson walked into the room together

"Ah!" Sherlock exclaimed as he ran into the living room from the open plan kitchen and grabbed my wrist, pulling me back into the kitchen with him.

"Are you going to do that often?" I asked once he released my arm from his death grip

"Yes."

"Right okay." I replied, as I pulled his coat off of my shoulders, pulling my arms out of it, and finally holding it out in front of me in his direction "Here's your coat back. It's warm. Thanks for lending it me." I thanked as he waved off towards nothing with his left hand

"Keep it."

"What?" I asked, and I didn't even _try_ to mask the surprise I was feeling.

"Keep It."

"Are you insane?" I asked and I heard a voice from the living room say:

"Yes. Yes he is." and shortly after, a smaller man appeared in our line of sight, with sandy blond hair and a cable knit jumper. "I heard you finally found a roommate. Didn't know it was a girl, Sherlock."

"I don't discriminate genders, John." Sherlock mentioned, not making any effort to look towards the man of whom he was addressing, but keeping his gaze looking down at me.

"You must be John Watson." I replied, moving towards him. I held my hand out to shake and he reciprocated with a warm smile. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but Sherlock appeared to beat me to it:

"Her name is Jane. She graduated Oxford University studing biology, organic chemistry, general chemistry, English, physics, psychology, sociology and calculus. She has or had a brother. She's extremely athletic, played Baseball in University and won some games. She had the potential to mpve to America and become a star baseball player and take part in Major League Baseball, despite her several degrees in scientific subjects, but she refused, even after being told that is how she would earn the most money. She is extraordinarily over qualified for her current job at Bart's Hospital as Molly's intern but she refuses any offers of higher end jobs. She has a dysfunctional family but I don't know much about that. She's extremely smart, and she's basically the female version of me." Sherlock concluded with a sentence that surprised me a little. I found it hard to keep up as his words got faster and faster and I frowned several times, when he mentioned things I haven't even thought about telling him, like what I studied in Oxford. A sense of something I just couldn't put my finger on washed over me as his grey eyes lingered on me scrutinously long before he turned to face John.

"That never ceases to amaze me, Sherlock." He replied as he only now released my hand from his grip. Realising the dark blue coat was still draping from my right fist, I thrust it in Sherlock's direction once again.

"I said, keep it." Sherlock said absentmindedly, like he wasn't one hundered percent sure what he was saying, as he wandered off into the living room.

"Sherlock, I can't. It looks like an expensive coat." I replied, following him like a lost puppy, begging for attention from it's master. Sherlock turned around to face me, and an identical coat was laid flat across the palms of both his hands.

"Keep it." He repeated for the fourth time "I have a new one. That one has a rip in it anyway."

"Oh..."

"Aw." John piped up and mine and Sherlock's heads seemed to snap robotically to face John, almost simultaniously. "Roommate bonding." he replied with a smile. He glanced at his watch; It was new, expensive, probably a gift as there was engraving on the side. The time was two minutes slow and the strap was real leather, judging by the texture "Wow, it's half ten. I best be off then. Mary'll be waiting."

"Yes." Sherlock mentioned, but I saw that distant look in the corner of his eye again. He had padded over towards the window whilst I was examining Watson's watch and he was holding the curtain aside with his index finger.

"It was really nice meeting you, Doctor Watson." I stated, as I held my hand out once again and, once again, he shook it. There was a hesitation though where he seemed to be deciding something, and then I realised "I'm really sorry!" I exclaimed as I pulled my hand away and thrust my right hand forwards "It's just, I'm left handed and I'm used to doing everything with my left hand, I didn't mean to be rude or- or disrespectful!" I apologised and a familiar warm smile spread across his features and was evident in his eyes too.

"No, it's fine, I assumed you were left handed, when we first shook hands, I hesitated because I was figuring out which hand went with the left hand." He replied kindly with a genuine chuckle, one of which I joined

"As much as I appreciate the mutal respect you two have for formalities, John you were leaving and Jane, I assume you're going to sleep, I have things to do." Sherlock interrupted and John replied with a simple roll of his eyes

"Actually, none of my belongings have arrived."

"We'll sort that out in the morning."

"We?" I asked, I definetly was _not_ expecting help from Sherlock, but he's surprised me several times before so, I don't know what to expect anymore.

"Yes. I'll help. Assuming you _want_ my help."

"Yeah, yeah that'd be great, Sherlock. Thank you." I said, and all I got was a 'hum' in response as he still stared fixedly out the glass and into the streets.

Over the next ten minutes, John had left, and me and Sherlock had said our 'goodbyes' -so to speak- for the night, before I padded off into my room and climbed into my bed in my regular daytime clothes. It didn't take much time or effort for me to drift off into a light sleep, before I fell deeper and deeper into a slumber, anticipating... _fearing_... my dream that was yet to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**[A.N: It's been a few days sorry and this is just a short one sorrryyyy :/, I** _ **was**_ **planning on updating this daily but I had my half term holiday and I wrote parts of this each day but I was super busy and I didn't take my laptop anywhere :/ Sorryyy! Okay, more have reviewed! Yay! Thanks guys, this is getting a lot more recognition than I planned I'm low key self concious of my writing now... Anyway, to PinkFriday28 who reveiwed "I love the chapters you've already written, I really hope you continue, it's really good! xx imma follow just incase you do :)" Thank you! I appreciate your compliments more than I can express with my words and trust me when I say I will continue, Thank you for the follow :) *** And to galwidanatitud (What a name wow. I love it EDIT: OMG IS A PLAY ON 'GIRL WITH AN ATTITUDE' BUT ITS LIKE GAL WID AN ATITUD. I really like your name) Who asked "Is the brother named Jim? Curiouser and curiouser... more please. :)" Well, like I said I am planning to follow this through until the end and as for your question, well, Jane's a bit of a mystery isn't she, guess you'll have to stick with me and find out, Just remember; Everything is not as it seems ;) *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* Oh god, I'm never gonna say that again. AGAIN YOUR COMMENTS OR REVIEWS OR WHATEVER THEY'RE CALLED ARE APPRECIATED, whether it is complimentrary or critizisom (I will also take critisizom for my spelling of 'Critizisom' because I am** _ **sure**_ **that isn't right but I've got no internet whilst writing so I can't google it damn. I'll have forgotton by the time I have internet though :/ BYYEEEE GUYYSSS]**

 **(Influence: 'Rule the World' by Take That)**

 **(Warnings: Swearing (As always :D)**

 _ **Jane's P.O.V**_

 _My mind was racing too fast for my consious body to acknowledge. My legs ached and my thighs burned. Too much lactic acid. My breathing was way too fast for it to be healthy. Suddenly, I stopped. I couldn't run anymore. My lungs felt drained and my legs felt extremely brittle, as if one more movement would cause them to snap, like wax sticks. It was completly silent, devoid of any sound, excluding me expelling Oxygen and Carbon dioxide from my mouth. The feeling of wet twigs, wet rocks and wet leaves under my bare feet was almost ubearable, and the mud between my toes was enough to make me visibly shudder. The stars loomed over me, and the moon stared down at me scrutinously. Grey, and judgemental... Familar, Like a pair of eyes I know from somewhere... Somewhere... Someone... She-_

 _"Jane." I heard in an interrupting whisper, and something was odd, I couldn't tell whether it was right behind me, or a mile away. I went with the latter, considering I didn't feel the breath of the words on my neck, or ear. But it was a whisper... you can't hear a whisper from far away... then I heard an exhale right next to my ear and this time I_ did _feel the breath on my neck. The warm air skidded across my sweaty skin, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end and my heart dropped into my stomach, and started beating exraordinarliy fast. Unhealthily fast.I felt a presence behind me and my whole body stiffened. It felt as though the fear that was shooting through my veins like heroin was paralysing me. My eyes drifted closed and my breath became erratic despite screaming at myself to show no reactions. I heard a slight chuckle behind me, one I had heard before and just the mere thought of it terrified me to the bone, everything I associated with it, everywhere I had heard it before. Don't get me wrong, I knew exactly who it was before they even came up behind me but there was something about that evil, sinister chuckled that made everything real, something about the breath on my neck which reminded me of reality. I felt moving behind me and I felt the touch of fingertips on my shoulders, as hands lay flat on my skin. They moved up, leaving their fingertips all over me, until they were wrapped loosely around my bare neck. Cold hands against my warm skin, it took more than a far share of willpower to not shudder. In a jolt that was swifter than a bling, the hands tightened and my breathing was drastically slowed down. I made a choking sound, as air struggled to get to my lungs and my eyes shot open. The whole surroundings had changed from the forest in front of me when I had closed them. I saw a house. We were stood in a garden, facing a large house made out of unpoainted clay bricks, with a cliched white picket fence around the grass. My lungs burned and I felt my whole body getting weaker, my eyelids getting heavier. I fought to stay concious. My hands flew up and clawed at the fists around my neck, in a last desperate attempt to save myself. I felt myself using my last percentage of oxygen. I fell to the ground but the hands didn't release, or even loosen slightly, instead the owner was crouched over me, still choking me, there was no doubt an intention to kill. My eyes widened and the murderous, pshycotic look in thise brown eyes was the last thing I saw before everything went black._

 _"J-" I choked out before I lost all control over myself._

My eyes shot open faster than a greyhound being let onto the track for the first time in months and a scream escaped my lips when I was met with another pair of eyes, equal distance to those haunting brown ones. I flinched when the head these new eyes belonged to tilted to the side. Once I regained my senses slightly I recognised the emotionless grey eyes as Sherlock's and I relaxed slightly, sinking back down.

"Are you fucking insane?" I asked

"I'm going to kill you." Was said, and my head snapped to Sherlock who was looking at me expectantly. I shot up onto my feet and he did the same urgently with a look that was an amalgumation of concern and confusion. I stood facing the tall man. He took a step towards me, with his arms in front of him and I took an equal step back. My breathing was quick and shallow again and I glanced at the door behind me, It was open and I could run at anytime.

"W- what did you say?" I asked, my shaky voice a product of what was apparently a nightmare, and Sherlock's words

"I'm going to kill you." He repeated, but his expression... his _eyes_ , didn't match his words. He attempted to advance another step but I turned on my heel and ran out of the door.

I ran down the stairs and threw open the front door to 221B and I emerged onto the cold streets.


	4. Chapter 4

**[A.N: I feel like I haven't updated for a while :/ I'm sorry, I've got revision for two of my option subjects though, and my coursework deadline for one of them is Easter and I'm only halfway through so I'm fucked and extraordinarily busy. I'll try to update but there's no promises...]**

 **(Warnings: Swearing)**

 **(Influence: 'Skinny Love' by** **Birdy)**

 _Jane's P.O.V_

I had been wandering for at least two hours now, and the same two questions were constantly running through my mind; What was going on with Sherlock? Why was he watching me sleep? Why did he say he wanted to kill me? Why did he say it so normal? So polite? I walked down the pavement, with my hands in my jean pockets.

"Excuse me have you got the time?" I asked a man. As he approached me, he halted in his tracks, pulled up his sleeve and read what appeared to be a very expensive, custom made, watch.

"Yes, it's half past two in the morning."

"Okay, thank you." I replied courteously before carrying on walking. It was freezing, below 0 celcius easy, and I was walking around in a shirt. The locals must think I'm mad. I was past shivering and the heimal temperatures of the air just seemed to slice around my bare numb skin. I was thankful for the air in my lungs. To be able to feel the coldness on my neck, to not have hands obstructing the contact between me and nature. To just not have those brown eyes staring into mine for a while. It was nice. I reached a park and decided it wouldn't hurt to stroll for a little while. I followed a path through arches of trees, past small little flowers and a lake, dimly lit by flickering pond lights well past their age. I found a small bench, secluded within the trees, overlooking the still water and sat. I brung my knees up and hugged them to my chest. I wasn't cold, Like I said I was far from being cold, now I was just numb... and tired. My eyelids grew heavy again but I fought to stay awake. I fought, and I fought and with every blink my eyelids seemed to get heavier and my defenses weakened. I was on the verge of unconsiousness. The thought of sleeping was revitalising, I was exhausted, however it was also terrifying, as sleep is where dreams dwell, and my experiences with dreams have never been that of a positive nature. My eyes drifted shut with the intention to just blink slowly, but they didn't open within five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds...

 _"Ten Seconds!" A voice yelled "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. We're losing her! Five. Four. Three Seconds! Two. One."_

 _A high pitched beeping sounded. I heard all the noises of people rushing, I heard gasps, and rapid talking which seemed to have a medical timbre to it. The long high pitched drone was still audiable despite seeing nothing but darkness and so were the voices._

 _"Bradycardia!" A female voice yelled as more people moved around. I heard things being shouted over loudspeakers and I heard the whirring of machines that sounded far away. There was only one setting in my mind but it was impossible._

 _"Wait. She's responsive? How?" A man asked and my eyes flickered open quickly, before closing again. "She has no pulse how is she...?" I felt a hand brush against my neck and the adreniline that shot through me afterwards caused my eyes to bolt open. My breathing was rapid, as though I was scared, but I wasn't... I sat up quickly, I was right, the setting I thought it was- it was impossible. This was a dark room. There were people in scrubs yes, and hospital equpiment, but it was not a hospital. A tall and skinny man at my right pulled a walkie talkie from his belt and spoke into it the words:_

 _"She's awake, unharmed and ready."_

 _And my heart rate sped up faster. Unhealthily fast. My eyes darted around the room and I desperatly tried to deduce the people but it was impossible, like they weren't real, like they... weren't... real..._

 _The sound of metal scraping on the concrete floor echoed through the room and my gaze snapped towards the sound. A big metal door was being pushed ajar slowly and torturously and he stepped in. If my eyes had rolled back any further I would have been able to see my own fucking brain._

 _"Why am I here?" I asked as he approached me and stood on my left side. He was wearing sunglasses, god knows why, the lights in this room were fillament and harmless and there were no windows to actually let the sunlight in. He was wearing a grey suit jacket over a crisp white shirt and a deep red tie along with grey dress trousers and black formal shoes. His head looked in my direction, of course the frames restricted me seeing where his eyes were fixed. He didn't scare me. I'm ninety nine percent sure he_ should _scare me. But he didn't._

 _"You're here because it's where you want to be." He replied and my heart dropped, his voice was perfect; Just as I remembered it, just as he'd speak to me when we were children._

 _"J." I stated, just wanting to reassure myself that this was him_

 _"Yes?" He replied and he pulled the shades off of his face, revealing the brown eyes I have looked to for advice so many times, the brown eyes that have showed me so much empathy over the years..._ His _eyes._

 _"Is it really you?" I asked and I felt so damn stupid for this, for acting so... Sentimental._

 _"No." He said as he cleaned the glass of his sunglasses on his tie absent mindedly_

 _"What do you mean 'No'?" I asked, and I swear there was a subtle level of desperation in my voice._

 _"I am not me. I'm your version of me." He told me and then it all hit me, it all made sense. Why his voice was the one I remember as a child, why his eyes weren't terrifying me... Why I wasn't scared of him... He's as I rememeber him, not as everyone has told me. He isn't the psychopath mum and dad have described him as. He isn't the murderer Aunt Jenny has told me so many stories of... He's my big brother._

 _"Are the stories true?" I asked, but I tried acutely to guise my disappointment_

 _"The stories mum and dad have told you?" He asked and I nodded slowly "I don't know. I'm your version of me. You've made me up, I only know what you know." He told me and my chest ached, how can this guy be a murderer and a psychopath, he's my big brother, he's the guy that was always there for me, the guy that always helped me with maths homework, or science homework, the guy who always took me out of the house when mum and dad were fighting... He's my big brother. I was the one diagnosed with it, it should have been me that turned into this... mentally unstable killer... Everyone thought it was going to be me, and he still stuck with me through it, when mum and dad were afraid of me, when Aunt Jenny stopped calling, he spoke to me, helped me, treated me like a normal human being._

 _"I should have been me." I whispered_

 _"Jane." He said "Jane. Jane, wake up."_

 _"What?" I asked, as I looked to him_

 _"Wake up."_

 _"What do you mean wake up?"_

 _"You're only here because this was where you wanted to be but now you have to wake up okay?" He asked and I exhaled sharply. I new this wasn't real, especially when I couldn't deduce the people... they're Mind Palace people... undeducable._

 _"I don't want to wake up."_

 _"Don't be so absurd." He said and I smirked, it was a smile he reciprocated "You have to wake up."_

 _"J, I..." My voice trailed off and I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence_

 _"I know, Kid."_

"Jane? Come on." I heard a familar voice and my eyes flickered open slowly "Jane! For God's sake. Who goes outside in below zero degrees in a shirt and just sits there?" He shouted and I winced as every syllable felt like a stab in the head "What's wrong?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly

"My head hurts."

"Yes, well." He replied and my eyes only just started to focus, and once the picture in front of me was clear I started to panic, beeping grew faster on my right and my eyes darted around. I brought my left hand up to rub my eye, and a sharp pain ran through my arm "I wouldn't do that if I was you. The drip needle is quite long." The familar man said calmly and I shot him he deadliest stare I could muster in my current state. Another man approached in dark purple scrubs.

"You're awake."

"Yes." I replied and he smirked."Can I ask what happened or is that confidential for only people playing a major part in this charade?" I asked and the doctor's smirk grew even wider. I glanced to the side and saw Sherlock still onlooking the situation.

"You were admitted twenty two hours ago by a man who refused to leave his name and willed to be kept completely anonomous. You were suffering from extreme hyporthermia and several different broken bones and other trauma but we'll discuss that later. We found your files, and contacted your roommate, Mr Holmes," He gestured towards Sherlock "And called him in, he arrived an hour after you were admitted and frankly he hasn't left since."

"Wait. He arrived an hour after I was admitted?"

"Yes."

"But you just said I was admitted twenty two hours ago."


	5. Chapter 5

**[A.N: I've been very bad with updating this so here's two chapters in one night to make up for it :) Oh, and I just want to say: I find writing in Sherlock's Point of View very tricky, so any kind of advice you can give me for writing as Sherlock would be so appreciated because you guys are so brilliant and so supportive and all that sort of emotional stuff you know? Any thing you have that you think could help me, it doesn't even have to be about Sherlock, it can just be to improve my writing in general because- I don't know- I don't feel good enough for this at all but yeah, sorry for the rambling. Enjoy!]**

 **(Btw, this is a really messy chapter that probably doesn't make sense, because I'm writing super fast because I have a time limit :)**

 **(Warnings: Swearing)**

 **(Influence: 'Down' by Jason Walker** **)**

 _Sherlock's P.O.V_

"But you just said I was admitted twenty two hours ago." I heard Jane say as I examined the wall, trying desperatly to detatch myself from the conversation

"Yes, you were admitted about twenty two hours ago, Ms Moriarty." The young Doctor in scrubs replied, as he seemed to be executing a routine check of the monitors and drips in the room. It took so much will power and self control to not recoil and cringe at that last name, but there was just that tone; that association I have with it, that creates bad feelings in me.

"You've been here for over twenty hours?" She asked someone, and I avoided her eyes. "Sherlock?" She addressed me, directly, I couldn't ignore the situation now, I'll have to deal with it.

"Hmm?" I hummed in acknowledgement, pretending that I haven't been listening

"Answer the question"

"What ques-"

"Don't play dumb, Sherlock." She replied and an acrimonious tone crept into her voice.

"Yes." I said simply as my answer, the accusation of 'playing dumb' was an extremely naive inference on her part

"Why?" She asked, and I turned my body to face hers, straight on, and I saw her confidence die slightly in her eyes. Her body language just screamed arrogance in my face, but her eyes. God, her eyes. They reflected a little girl, an innocent little girl, a girl who'd been corrputed... abused at a young age. A girl who once had the world in her hands... _Once_...

"Because, you're my flatmate. A dead flatmate after less than a day would look very bad when I put out the advertisment for a new flatmate. Imagine the questions." I replied, staring at her eyes, wathcing as they changed, watching the glint fade in and out. Analysing the pattern at which she blinked... She stared at me blankly. She did one blink and then scrunched her eyes closed for twice as long as a regular blink, and then two blinks, and the two blinks again, and then one blink. Curious...

"Okay..." She replied, although it was _painfully_ obvious that she was unconvinced by my weak lie. She turned away, and went to address the Doctor. I narrowed my eyes at her slightly for a second before blinking to hide it. "Uhm, when can I leave?" She asked him, and the Doctor wore a movie-screen worthy white smile

"Well, we still have the matter of the broken bones to discuss... although they don't seem to be affecting you at all... And then the trauma, we need to discuss the trauma, but we'll do that when you're ready."

"I'm ready now." She told him, and there was a confident timbre in her words which appeared to set the Doctor back slightly

"Okay, well, first of all, I'm Doctor Carter and I'll be caring for you-"

"Even though I'm fine." Jane interrupted, eliciting a chuckle from Carter

"You might feel fine, but we have to make sure there's no underlying cause that is _making_ you feel fine when you're not."

"You mean like CIPA?" She asked, with mock curiousness which was so obviously sarcastic even the most brain dead person in the hospital could point it out

"How do you know about CIPA?" Carter asked, and it was Jane's turn to smirk

"Well, perhaps it has something to do with my degrees in biology, organic chemistry, general chemistry, English, physics, psychology, sociology and calculus. Or you know... The fact that I have a P.h.D in immunology, infectious diseases, internal medicine and several other areas that you probably haven't heard of." She mentioned and Carter stood, blinking blankly at Jane "And, yes. I'm 28." She told him absent mindedly and my stomach dropped. Twenty eight years of age, with several degrees _and_ P. ... This kid's a genius, how did I not realise?

"Y-You're twenty eight?" Carter stuttered

"Yes. Not a lot of people know this, but I'm a genuis. So, I'm pretty sure I don't have CIPA, or any other kind of pain insensitivity, so my injuries can't be that bad, and therefore, I am discharging myself, and rememeber, I'm a _qualified_ Doctor so technically non of this is A.M.A." She concluded before she turned and walked towards the door out of the Private room "Oh!" She excalimed as she whipped her body around to face Carter once again "Next time, actually _read_ your patients file. Don't just take them on because you're attracted to them."

"I didn't-"

"You're lying. Everything about my degrees and P. and etcetera is in my file, so you would have known if you had in fact read my file." She wrapped up before walking out the room.

I glanced at Carter who was staring on in utter disbelief, his cheeks redder than blood and his expression more exasperated than a fish out of water. He turned and caught my eye

"bit too smart for you that one?" I asked sarcastically, and winked before following Jane's path out of the room exactly. Once emerging, I looked around for any sign of the dark horse, and I spotted her getting into what appeared to be a somewhat heated argument with the receptionist. I traipsed over and smirked when the conversation was in earshot

"I don't give a damn if my Doctor hasn't released me. My Doctor is an idiot!"

"Excuse me, you can't insult your Doctor like that." The woman behind the desk replied calmly, absentmindedly flicking the page of a notebook, covered in almost illegible handwriting.

"Oh, that's funny because I just did." Jane replied and the receptionist looked up

"Okay, I'm going to wipe that attitude out of you with one phrase: You cannot discharge yourself"

"And I'm going to wipe _the floor_ with you with one of _my_ single phrases: To hell I can't"

"I will call the police."

"Oh! Are we having a reunion?" She asked deadpan, and a Nurse in dark blue scrubs stifled laughter, earning her a dirty look from the receptionist who was so obviously struggling to hold her ground against Jane and her sarcasm

"You've had trouble with the police before?"

"Well; I'm in a hospital, violently arguing with a receptionist and I don't even care about the consequenses. What do you think?"

"Have you been done for violence before?" The receptionist asked and Jane rolled her eyes so far back I'd be damned if she didn't see her brain

"DOES NOBODY HERE READ MY FUCKING FILE?" She screamed and the receptionist flinched, and her hand shot to a phone and she punched a couple of numbers in and I saw her mouth the words 'Security' and figured that this was my time to step in

"Jane!" I yelled, and the whole room halted, as if time had stopped, and Jane turned on her heel, supressing any anger as I approached her. "What is the problem?"

"The 'problem' is that I'm smarter than almost _all_ the people in this room, and-"

"Oh, you're smarter than us are you?" The receptionist interrupted

"Honey, read my file." Jane replied uncharacteristically arrogantly

"She more than likely is." I mentioned, just to clear things up and the receptionist waved her hand at what looked like a medical student, who ran off down a corridor. A security man burst through the doors and as soon as he set foot in the department, the whole room had an atmosphere of authority.

"Oh for fuck sake." Jane said, loud enough for everyone to here, but surprisingly not shouting

"Ah Jane." The man said, as he slowly ambled towards us. I sensed a history, a _bad_ history. A heavy sigh escaped Jane's lips and I mentally prepared mysef for a physical fight because, judging by the look on Jane's face, that was going to happen. The man was now practically centre meters from Jane, who leaned into him and whispered:

"If you so much as lay a hand on me, I will scream _bloody murder_."

"Don't worry, Honey, I won't." He whispered back, and Jane's figure stiffened.


	6. Chapter 6

**[A.N: GUYS! I'M VERY SORRY. This is a really bad chapter because I have no idea about what I'mma write but I feel bad for not updating so here ya go I guess. This is so messy. I promise the next chapter will be absolutely to the absolute best of my ability:) ]**

 **(Warnings: Swearing (as always, what do you expect from me?))**

 **(Influence: 'Everybody Lies' By Jason Walker** **)**

 _Third Person P.O.V_

There was a dismal atmosphere amongst the Hospital and no one dared move a muscle. The air was so tense. Jane was stood, she was quite tall, but this man had quite a large edge on her, he was almost as tall as Sherlock... _almost_. Jane's head was tilted up slightly, giving the man an air of confidence, _false_ confidence, and he smirked a wicked and memorable smirk. Jane reciprocated with a smile, but it was an evil smile, a smile which could make the most hardended veteran afraid. The man gulped, and in the silence it sounded louder than possible and Jane's smile grew wider. "Are you going to do something?" Jane asked, with a teasing tone in her voice as she cocked her head to the side

"Maybe." The man replied and the keenest of ears could notice a shaky timbre to his voice.

"Have you forgotten _who I am_?" Jane asked, whispering it in the man's ear. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and his head slightly tilted to the left side. Sherlock shifted his weight onto his right foot and the scuffling caused the man's head to snap towards Sherlock before slowly turning back to Jane.

"Of course not. Have _You_?" He asked her and Jane just blinked, unfazed by a phrase which had the potential to be terrifying.

"Trust me, I know _exactly_ who I am."

"Hiding behind your name, that's cute." The man stated, and Jane's eyes physically darkened, something Sherlock has only ever seen happen once before, he was still surprised this could actually happen to a human being.

"I'm not hiding behind _anything_." She replied, her voice was now low and course, terrifying, a wise man would take the hint and back the fuck away, but not this man

"The last time I saw you, you were fifteen, you had just been diagnosed with-"

"Shut up." Jane warned, and her eyes had drifted shut "Just, shut up."

"Who was there for you?"

"I-"

"Who refused to leave your side?"

"Don't." Jane warned again, but this man was persistant

"Who refused to give in to the stigma?" He asked her and her eyes shot open, she breathed in as if she was about to combust, but she simply let out the breath slowly, and the wicked smile spread across her face once again and fear was now absolutely evident in the man's eyes.

"You're afraid." Jane stated with a laugh, and the man was now avoiding her eyes, like a realisation had just hit him, and knocked him back. "You're afraid because you remember." She carried on. She took a step closer to him, and he couldn't help but take a step back. "You do remember. You were there." She told him and he tilted his head to the side and a cracking sound echoed. No one in the hospital had attempted to step in, or even move.

The man just replied with a sharp intake of breath

"Where's your confidence gone? Your arrogance?" Jane asked, taking another step forwards

"I'm not scared of you." He said, despite him moving backwards by another step

"Oh, I beg to differ." Jane stated. The tense atmosphere was interrupted by a Medical Student crashing through a pair of double doors, with a manilla envelope in her hands. All heads in the room snapped to her, except Jane. the young medical Student- who couldn't have been older than nineteen- padded sheepishly over to the receptionist and held the envelope out at arms length towards her.

"Mind if I read this outloud?" She asked, and all eyes fixed expectantly on Jane

"Not at all."

"Everyone will hear all of your diagnosed medical conditions or... Mental Disorders." The receptionist stated, somewhat bitterly. Jane appeared to be mulling it over in her head before her gaze snapped to Sherlock, who was stood at her left side, watching and listening intently

"Uuhh..." She hesitated and Sherlock flashed a smirk

"It can't be worse than mine." He reassured, and his words were weirdly comforting, but Jane just responded with a single laugh

"Go for it." She gestured for the receptionist to start reading. The older woman flicked through a couple of pages which were most likely about the conditions of the birth.

"Ah, okay. Fifteen years of age. Jane was admitted with a... Broken jaw..." The receptionist stated. Several pairs of Doctor's eyes shot to the floor, but Jane's were still fixed on the man in front of her, who still held a mortified look that glistened in his eyes. The receptionist cleared her throat before she flicked the page over. "Uh, two days later. Admitted with a broken right wrist and a fractured left Radius Bone..." Murmers sounded amoungst the medical staff. "Three months later, March, Jane was admitted for... Alcohol Poisoning and it was further discovered that there was a substantial amount of- oh okay- Heroine, in the young girl's system..." The receptionist read and her eyes drifted towards Jane

"I had a phase."

"Then there's nothing until you're seventeen?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"You were admitted to the mental health department?"

"Ugh, terrible place." Jane joked, with a mock look of disgust on her face

"For- Ooh I'm not sure I should read that outloud..." The older woman stated, wincing and sounds of encouragement sounded from the crowd of people, who were now not afraid to move... or breathe. "You... Threatened an eighteen year old male and proceeded to- oh wow uhm... Proceeded to violently beat the young man with your bare hands and- it says here- you threw him through a brick wall."

"The cement wasn't set, I'm not that strong." Jane replied with a smirk

"Apparently, the reason was that he insulted a complete stranger."

"Seems like a valid reason." Jane admitted and she shrugged as if it was nothing

"And then you were diagnosed as having ASPD."

"Yes, Antisocial Personality Disorder." Jane cleared up

"And then at nineteen... Oh... Uhm... I don't think I should-"

"At nineteen I got officially diagnosed as a psychopath." Jane interrupted and gasps were heard, as well as mutters, whispers and some people even held a hand to their mouth "And you remember that, don't you, Milo?" She asked the man in front of her, who daren't say a thing "Did _he_ send you?"

"No."

"Ha! Lies. Tell him that if he wants to speak to me, he can come and speak to me." Jane exclaimed as she looked up to Milo, who just sighed before turning cautiously on his heal, skeptical to turn his back to Jane. Once he was out of the room, Jane seemed to deflate. Her posture changed, she slouched causing her to be a good few centre meters shorter than before. She looked around at all the eyes that were fixated on her "What? Have you never seen a fully functioning psychopathic genius before?" She asked and she made for the doors, halting just before and turning to the receptionist "I assume I can leave now?" Jane asked, and the woman slowly nodded. Jane disappeared through the doors. Sherlock stood, absolutely staggered. After moments of silence, Sherlock started a slow jog towards the door, figuring it wasn't exactly a good idea- for both Jane and the public- that she be out in the streets in this state.

Once he was out of the doors, Sherlock was perplexed as to where he should go. He saw a nurse exit round the corner at the end of a corridor and jogged towards her

"Excuse me! Have you seen a young woman in this corridor within the last two minutes?"

"Uh, yes. She uh, she went that way," the girl gestured down the corridor towards a plain and simple set of doors "She seemed pretty pissed off." She concluded snf Sherlock gave his thanks before walking toward the door


	7. Chapter 7

**[A.N: This is quite an emotional chapter which I really enjoyed writing to be honest, I tried to make this absolutely amazing but uhm... I'm like not the best writer so it's probably sh*t :-) EDIT: I'm actually quite proud of how this is going :D]**

 **(Warnings: Swearing, Emotions ;)**

 **(Influence: 'Heathens' by Twenty One Pilots** **)**

 _Sherlock's POV_

I emerged from the hospital room, and fresh air collided with my body in a refreshing sense. The sky was dark, very dark, and the stars were extremely visible despite the light pollution. The carpark was busy, people visiting loved ones- whether it be the first time, tenth time... or last time. I glanced around, and saw Jane. I ran towards her, and the wind against my face was the first _pleasant_ physical feeling I had felt in a while

"Jane!" I hollered, but no attention was given to me. She was striding down the London street, with her hands in her pockets, and her hair loose as wind gathered it up behind her. "Jane!" I repeated, desperate for her attention, this wasn't a healthy state for her to be angry in, for anybody. There's no chance this is going to end well. British weather turned on us. The sky clouded and the air became oddly foggy oddly fast. I felt a cold pinprick on my face, and another and another, and- soon enough- rain was falling in icy sheets, darkening the old city cobblestones. The water pooled together in potholes in the pavements creating gelid puddles of which my feet flew through. Finally catching up to the woman; "Jane!"

"What?!" She vociferated loudly, as she stopped dead in her tracks and spun around. Her hair was now wet and stringy, clinging to her face. Her hands were shaking in her pockets and her face was a pure picture of anger

"Just, calm down, please." I asked, and I realised it was a stupid, pathetic and downright useless thing to say, but it just slipped out. I recieved a deadpan stare from the evidently seething person in front of me before she turned back around and carried on walking "Look what I just said was a pathetic attempt at making you feel better." I told her, as I followed. Her hands flew out of her pockets and landed on her head. She gripped her hair and let out a low pitched scream before she pressed her palms against her eyes in a fit of frustration. Her hands then balled into fists at her side and she strode towards the wall of someone's garden. In an unrequited combustion of indignation her left fist flew towards the bricks, and I felt the impact, what followed wasn't a cry of pain as you'd expect, it was a haunting scream of frustration. Once again, Jane's balled fist flew towards the structure and a red liquid somewhat splattered the wall, this was the point I decided I should step in. I bolted towards the woman and guided her away from the wall. Her hand was a mess. Blood streaked down the back of her hand, down her wrist and continued down her arm. The more blood that seeped out, the darker the rivers became. I breathed slowly, calming myself before I spoke. After much internal debating: "Let's go home." I stated simply and I guided Jane through the streets via her shoulders. I pulled my coat off and draped it over the shaking girl, not that it would do much good now, her shirt was soaked and clinging to her body. I'm sure her shaking was more to do with the after math of her uncharacteristic outburst rather than the cold, but- especially since she is _technically_ still recovering from hypothermia- it's better safe than sorry. Warm than dead. Jane tugged the coat tighter around her figure as we turned a corner and found ourselves on Baker Street. We ambled slowly and carefully towards 221B. I relished in the coat-less cold, letting it seep beneath my skin. I memorised the feel of Jane's icy skin under my sweaty palms. We approached the door and I leaned forwards, thrusting my hand into the pocket of the coat Jane was wearing, and pulled out a set of keys. I placed them in the lock, turned the meticulously, and pawed the door open.

I sat Jane down at the table. I refused to taked back my coat, despite how many times she tried to give it me, I'd just drape it over her again. I didn't want to risk her getting cold again, having to go back to hospital. "Let me look at your hand." I stated as I turned her chair around to face me. I kneeled down in front of her, and took her hand in mine. I examined it. It hadn't stopped bleeding, if it had the blood would have been diluted by the rain, but it wasn't. As a result of her slight dehydration the blood was darker than usual, not black- there was still a dark red tint to it. I sighed. I placed the hand flat on the table "Don't move it." I told her authoritively and surprisingly she obliged. I got up, and wandered towards a kitchen cabinet, throwing it open. The hollow sound of the wooden handle colliding with the wooden door of the cupboard next to it echoed throughout the flat. I rumaged through the complicated, unorganised scientific contents before returning triumphant with a Medical gauze bandage. I placed it on the table, next to Jane's hand, and wandered over to the sink. I ran the warm tap, and collected some tissue form the newly bought roll before soaking it in the warm water. I returned to Jane, again kneeling in front of her. I dabbed the knuckles, where the most damage appeared to be. Once the blood was cleared, it didn't take long before another river of the thick liquid appeared. Dabbing the wound with one hand, I took my free hand and picked up the bandage gauze. I quickly dropped the blood soaked tissue and proceeded to wrap the bandage around Jane's skin. "This will protect the wound form infection and.. well you know this, you've got degrees." I explained, all I got as a reply was a small- almost inaudiable- sigh. Jane's gaze was fixed on her hand, as I wrapped the bandage. Once I ran out of material to work with, I finished with a knot before coaxing her off the chair and towards the sofa. After she sat, I brought a blanket and spread it over her "One time, when I went through a traumatic event, the paramedics on th scene kept bringing me a blanket, so I assume it does something." I reminisced half heartedly and I walked off, leaving Jane, and sat in my chair mere metres away. I looked out into the open plan kitchen, watching the blood soaked tissue paper intently, analysing the situation in my head, I figured my Mind Palace was the place to be right now. . .

My eyes shot open. Had I fallen asleep? No, that's impossible. I've never fallen asleep whilst being in my Mind Palace before. I looked ahead into the kitchen. The tissue was gone. I frowned and then my head snapped towards the sofa. Empty.

"Great." I said aloud to myself. God, my mind was fuzzy. The blanket was haphazardly strewn across the end of the sofa, Jane wasn't a messy person, but strange circumstances cause people to do strange things, Jane could have been able to do _anything_ in the state she was in last night. Sunlight streamed through the room, past the curtains. I let out a grunt before rising slowly to my feet, but I felt unsteady. Something was definetly wrong. The room was abnormally cold, goosebumps appeared on my bare arms, and I glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place- Wait. The curtainw as swaying slightly. I dragged myself towards the curtains and yanked them aside, to reveal an open window. I sighed. I hadn't locked the door, if Jane wanted to leave all she had to do was walk through the front door. It was never warm in the flat so there was no reason pertaining temperature for her to open the window. Mrs Hudson hasn't even been in, I'd know if she had. _I_ haven't opened the window, I _never_ open any windows. There's only one other possible theory "Doubtful..." I whispered

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains- however improbable- must be the truth." A voice mentioned and my body whipped around.

"John." I acknowledged

"I just quoted you _to_ you and all you say is 'John'?" He asked me with a lighthearted smile as he walked towards me "What's doubtful, anyway?"

"My theory."

"Theory about what?" John asked, now stood next to me, gazing thoughtfully out the window

"Jane." I responded simply, my mind was somewhere, not quite in my Mind Palace, but not quite with John. At this name, John looked around the room, "She's not here."

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

"Something's wrong, John." I told him and he frowned. I exchanged my gaze form the window to the man's face

"What?"

"It's cold." I uttered and John let out a sigh

"Because the window is open, Sherlock." He told me and there was a tone in his voice I had never heard before. He hadn't slept, he was irritable and the bags under his eyes were deeper and grey-er. He hadn't eaten, his stomach was making quiet subtle sounds. He was frustrated, his mouth had changed from the lighthearted... _no_ , it was fake, his smile, it was fake not lighthearted, his fake smile had straightened out into a line. Mary. Only Mary could cause him to be like this

"Is Mary okay?" I asked, I knew he'd question me caring, he always does.

"What?" He asked and his frown intensified greatly

"Is Mary okay?" I just repeated, figuring if I asked enough he'd finally just answer

"She's fine." He told me, his eyes drifted away from mine, and his right hand twitched

"Okay. How is she _really_?"

"She's... Annoyed. Pregnant."

"Ah, overdue."

"Yes, Sherlock. Now, tell me what's going on." John replied, desperatly needing something to occupy him for an hour or two

"The window is open, and I fell asleep."

"Oh no! Oh my god! Okay, you tell the papers, and I'll alert the media!" He yelled, overexaggerating

"I was in my mind palace when I fell asleep, John. That never happens." I told him, and he untensed slightly

"So... What're you thinking?"

"I was drugged."

"Is that the 'doubtful' theory?" John asked, his face now portraying a somewhat excited face, but it was a hidden excited face

"No, the doubtful theory is that Jane was abducted from this flat. And the abductor came in through the window."


	8. Chapter 8

**[A.N: Hey my little Wotsits! This is a long chapter, but I've been super inactive so consider it a gift. I dunno if you guys will like this because... well you'll find out, but don't worry, it won't affect any of the pairings I'm writing... unless you want it to, comment if you'd like me to change the pairings after this or not cheers ]**

 **(Warnings: Swearing)**

 **(Influence: N/A** **)**

The searing pain caused my eyes to clamp shut as I felt as though a knife was being cleanly dragged across my palm. I tightened my fist, reluctant to give into the pain that was slowly becoming even more intense and my hand began to sweat as my internal temperature seemed to skyrocket. I avoided anyones eyes, keeping my head down staring at my feet . My vision snapped to my hand, the bandage on my hand, the blood had begun to seep through the material again and hastily pulled my sleeve over my knuckles with my free hand, desperate to eliminate anything that might cause undivided attention in my direction. My heart rate sped up as I felt someone's presence behind me and panic surged through my veins, combatted only by me forcing myself to stay calm, not long now. I heard it, the word meaning I could soon escape. I slowly walked forwards, cautiously watching where I placed my feet on the dirty, off coloured white linoleum. approaching the woman, I lifted my head and caught her eyes, they were blue, bright blue and she was young, not what I expected at all. She caught my attention, caught me off guard, and I was completely unresponsive to any external stimuli. Gone. My mouth dropped open and I couldn't stop a sound escaping my mouth that closely resembled a strangled cry. The woman's eyebrow raised slightly and I opened my mouth to apologise but... I couldn't, I just couldn't speak. My head tilted to the side as I urgently searched my brain for words to say, anything, anything is better than staring. Oh God, I'm staring.

"Uh, are you okay?" She asked and I whimpered slightly, I always assumed these kinds of scenes were reserved for cliched films and cheesy plays but here I am, in the real world, unable to speak solely because of the sheer attractiveness of a shop clerk. "Hello?" She asked again and I knew I had react in some way, so I simply nodded and lifted the pastic bag onto the counter. Sighing at the relief of the pain the plastic handle caused cutting into my palm I got my voice back

"Sorry about that." I mentioned and then I winced, I forgot, I had let it slip, let it go, and it came out strong. She giggled and I flashed a toothy smile her way "I don't know what came over me." I carried on and internally winced at my accent, I've been faking a British one for so long now, I forgot how bad mine really was.

"Your accent is cute." She said, as she removed a loaf of Warbutons from the bag and dragged it across the scanner, the beep echoed through the shop. I smirked

"Thanks, yours is... well British." I replied with a frown, realising I was no good at this

"Well, you are in London"

"Great observation." I laughed back and my head tilted to the side again, as I watched her eyes "You have like beautiful eyes, I like... are they real?" I asked and she gave me a look that I couldn't describe.

"Are they real?" She asked as she took out a box of Lurpak qnd dragged that across the scanner

"You- you know what I mean."

"Yes, they are."

"They're blue..." I replied, utterly mesmerised

"Great observation." She mimicked me, and a bad attempt at mimicking my accent shrouded her words and I just laughed, watching her hands intently as she scanned the last item. "What're you doing later?" She asked, and I was completely taken aback, I'd never gone for another female before but there was something about her question I just couldn't ignore

"Absolutely nothing." I replied with a smile, one of which she reciprocated warmly

"Well, I get off shift at nine, wanna meet up at half past?" She asked me and I literally could not believe this was happening

"Just tell me where." I replied, oddly confidently, this was not like me, not like me at all. My head screamed at me, asking me what the fuck I was doing and, honestly? I've not a clue. It was all happening so fast.

"Wheatsheaf down the road? nine-thirty?"

"I'll be there." I stated as she handed me the plastic bag back, I turned and left with a smile on my face.

I approached the door of the flat, and braced myself for the yelling I would no doubt recieve for sneaking out. I took a calming breath, mentally put back on my English accent and pawed open the door, walking up the steps. The plastic bag weighing me down slightly, I shoved the second door open

"Jane!" I heard him yell as he quickly emerged from his room, I waved a sarcastic wave before making my way into the kitchen where John, and quite a pregnant lady sat, staring at me. I hoisted the bag onto the counter and began putting food away. The bread, the butter, the jam, the milk, the tea bags, I placed them all in their allocated spacing and turned, to see three pairs of eyes staring at me expectantly "H- How did you pay for all of that?" Sherlock asked me as he, too, approached the counter

"Oh!" I exclaimed and pulled a black leather wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, whipping around so I was facing Sherlock, and he was facing me, I handed it over "Here's your wallet back." I smirked as he patted his jeans before his head snapped up, and he finally recognised it as his wallet, the wallet I had lifted from his jeans as he sit, asleep on the sofa. His eyes were wide as he slowly lifted his hand and retreaved his wallet

"Ooh I like this one." The pregnant lady mentioned and my gaze switched from a dumbfounded Sherlock to her

"Oh, Jane," John mentioned gestring towards me "Mary." He explained, gesturing towards the woman "Mary," He began again "Jane." He concluded with his hand stretched out towards me and I stretched mine towards the woman as she gripped my hand, and we shook.

"Hello." I said and he gave me a smile. I turned from mary back to Sherlock "What time is it?" I asked, and he looked out the window before replying

"twelve 'o' clock"

"Ah."

"Jane..." Sherlock said and I responded with a 'Hmm?', but when he didn't reply, panic set in my stomach, his eyes were... sympathetic? No, it's Sherlock. "I... Have some bad news."

"What?" I asked quickly

"Uh... Your belongings..."

"What about them?" I asked and Sherlock looked to John for help, and the smaller man stood up

"The van... they were in... Was involved in a motorway accident and-"

"It blew up, didn't it?" I asked, with a sigh

"You don't seem very fazed?" Mary asked and I smirked towards her

"I just need to hit back harder."

"What?" The three people asked in unision

"Ongoing sibling prank war." I explained, but their blank faces told me there was still some elaborating I needed to do "You guys don't have siblings?"

"Yes." John replied

"But we don't blow up eachother's belongings for a prank!" Sherlock exclaimed

"Wait... That means I have no clothes..." I mused and flopped down on a vacant kitchen chair

"You'll have to borrow some of mine."

"No, I'm meeting someone, I can't wear your clothes for that." I explained with a lighthearted laugh

"Meeting someone?" Sherlock asked, and his head tilted to the side

"Yes, later. I need clothes, but I don't know anywhere"

"Nor do you have money." Sherlock said as he smirked coldly at me

"Oooh, Sherlock. The things you don't know." I said inconclusively as I pulled a card out of my shirt pocket and tapped it on the counter

"Why did you steal my wallet when you could have paid for it yourself?!" He yelled and I just smirked wickedly back at him.

"I'll take you shopping." Mary said, with a kind timbre in her voice

"Really?"

"Yes, of course."


End file.
